Inquiry
by OtterPotter
Summary: It was a simple question, really. Just to pass the time. She didn't expect how weighted the answer would be. "What was she like?" During a quiet night in the Deep Roads Anders and Hawke discuss the Hero of Ferelden.


**I wanted more Anders/Hawke feels, as well as more mention of the Warden because I just have a lot of emotions about the fact that Anders gets to hang with both protagonists and no one really talks about it. So here's a little bit of me examining Anders' relationship with the Warden as well as with Hawke because I can get two birds with one stone. Enjoy and please review! **

"What was she like?"

It was a simple question, an innocent one, posed during a shared watch in the Deep Roads for the sole purpose of passing time.

"You're going to have to be more specific," Anders told her, his lips quirking as her cheeks reddened.

"The hero of Ferelden. You said you knew her." Hawke clarified, and Anders was momentarily distracted by watching her bite her lip and brush stray chestnut colored strands of hair away from her emerald eyes.

"Right, I did know her," he snapped himself back to their conversation, suppressing the thoughts he _really _couldn't—shouldn't—be having. Thinking about the Warden Commander, however, was almost as bad. "She recruited me into the Grey Wardens." Hawke looked at him and for a moment she reminded him of the bird of prey her surname suggested. It felt like her gaze was piercing him, like she was examining the innermost workings of his mind. He looked away.

"That didn't quite answer my question, Anders," she prompted, her lips turning up and her eyes soft, kind, like she was making up for glancing into his soul.

"It didn't," he agreed, but didn't expand on it. Hawke let him keep his silence, and finally gratitude won him over. "She was… a lot like the stories, actually. Brave, beautiful, merciful. When you were around her you were… inspired. She had the uncanny ability to bring people together. But she also was human. She couldn't hold liquor to save her life. She got frustrated and stressed and made mistakes."

"You sound like you admire her."

"I did. I do… She saved me from the Templars when she could have just had easily turned me in. I had a bit of a case of hero worship, though for awhile I thought it was something different."

That gave Hawke pause as she broke eye contact with him, looking down out her feet. He didn't—_couldn't—_dare think that there was a slightly bitter, slightly sad note in her voice as she finally spoke again.

"Did she…did she return the sentiment?" She faltered but met his eyes, and he let out a short laugh.

"No," he replied shortly. "No, she was already in love with a Grey Warden named Alistair. Talked about him all the time. Wrote to him every day. I think that was what was hardest on her about being the Warden Commander, having to be away from him so soon after they had stopped the Blight. Hearing her talk about him… I wanted someone to talk about me like that. It was selfish."

"I don't think that's selfish," Hawke said slowly, as if she was measuring her words carefully. "Well, I don't think it's completely selfish. To want someone to reciprocate your feelings and+ a partner, that's understandable. I think that's a fairly common feeling."

"Regardless, it was just an infatuation, if even that. I realize that now more than ever."

There was another pause, but the quiet wasn't completely uncomfortable. Anders was caught up in ideas and whispers of who he used to be, and the painful reality of where he was now. He couldn't tell her the reason why he was sure he had never loved the Warden Commander. He couldn't tell her these things that were pressing in his mind, begging to be expressed. The old Anders wouldn't have hesitated. But he had long since stopped being that selfish. He couldn't afford to be wrapped up in himself anymore…not while Justice was still in his head and the mages suffered. He couldn't afford to drag Hawke down with him. She didn't deserve that, and he didn't think he could stand what that would put her through.

"You're a lot like her, sometimes," he said before he could stop himself. Her eyebrows were raised.

"Excuse me, but I can out drink Isabella," she reminded him, mock offended.

"She lets you win," he said, and she made an outraged snort, about to defend herself before he interrupted. "But that's not what I was talking about. You're both so damned determined, and you both get me into all sorts of trouble. I think you would get along well with her."

"Do you ever wish that you were still with her instead of here?" _Here with me? _was the unspoken question.

"No." There was no hesitation to his reply. "There's a lot of things I've regretted, but being here is not one of them."

"Good."


End file.
